


Finding Colours

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: This is Season 10 break-up/make-up fluff.





	Finding Colours

She poured the wine and watched the ruby liquid cling to the glass. It had been a shared favourite of theirs. A mid-range Australian shiraz, nothing special, in and of itself. But nostalgia had a way of making the mundane taste better and, even after all these years, its taste could still trigger the memory of the exact moment she’d felt the last vestiges of the straight-jacket of common sense that had held them apart, slip away.  
That year had started with a promise. There had been a New Year’s kiss and a few evenings spent discussing theories over drinks and take-out; theories that could well have been tested out during business hours in the basement office. Later, there had been a strange night in his apartment when she’d confessed her revelatory insights and then fallen asleep on his couch. She’d slipped into his bed that night and they’d made love in the dark, silent and ethereal; for her almost like an out of body experience. That coupling was as unexpected as it was destined but it wasn’t the end for them, not a completion, more like the beginning, an opening to another dimension.  
The wine, that came a few weeks later, when they tested the waters of normalcy and dined together – steak and shiraz, danced together – jazz and two of her finest left feet, and sipped brandy at her apartment in the early hours. The rhythm of the evening had been set at a perfect beat and this time, they loved each other with understanding and depth, noise and smell and taste and touch and a sight so clear it was blinding.  
And maybe their vision had become too scarred with their love, scratched and damaged on the run for it to clear. The Father Joe case had hurt them. Mulder reached back into his old self and pulled out a facsimile that he’d hidden away, but she’d cast hers aside a long time ago. She wasn’t ready to go back then. Couldn’t. She was frightened to look into that darkness again and whilst her life wasn’t all light, there was a warm glow to her work that allowed her to function. But Mulder, his life turned to grey and she couldn’t help him find the colours he needed.  
And now, there was no choice. What had driven them apart: her desire to just be, to live on the near side of the horizon; and his need to look beyond had now bound them inexorably: William.  
Cases came at a slower pace these days. Skinner seemed to be allowing them a grace period. And the down time gave her the excuse to visit Mulder more often. She told herself she was attending to his health care as his physician. Truth was, the weekly visits had soon become every-other-day visits and he’d soon started to open the door a little too quickly, to have meals prepared, offer her tea or wine, and once or twice now, a shoulder to fall asleep on. Comfort, familiarity, the shadows and shapes of the life they used to share greeted her each time. It was difficult not to want to sink back into this pleasant life like she sunk into the ratty couch.  
“Want to watch a movie, Scully?”  
She yawned and stretched out her legs, her feet barely reaching the coffee table.  
That was one thing that had changed. That, and the material that was piled up on it. No more lifestyle or medical journals; just a pile of the bizarre and the unbelievable, that had become more bizarre and more unbelievable during the rise of the internet.  
“I’m pretty beat, Mulder. I should get going.”  
“Storm’s up, they say the wind’s going to get worse soon.” He hesitated and looked at her.  
She flexed her toes and waited a beat. This had been brewing as surely as the weather system outside.  
“Maybe you should stay, Scully.”  
The timbre of his voice dropped to the pitch she would once have described as dangerous. Mulder always did have an obscenely sensual tone. He could even make a slide show about the ritual exsanguination of cows sound faintly pornographic.  
“I shouldn’t, Mulder.”  
“Why not?” He sat up and reached out for his wine glass. “Besides, you’ve probably had a little too much of this stuff for you to drive.”  
She chuckled. “I’ll be fine, but I might just wait for a bit, see what happens with the storm. Where’s your phone? Check the radar.”  
The image was stubbornly red. Mulder grinned. “Wanna play Scrabble?”  
“And put up with your pedantry over what words I can play? No thanks.”  
He feigned a wound to the stomach, doubling over and letting his face linger a little too close to her lap.  
“Being cursed with a photographic memory leaves me open to all manner of insults, Scully.” He pulled himself up and smiled at her. “What about Twister?”  
She swiped at him, connecting a palm with his arm. She’d always had a thing for his arms, strong and defined, tender and protective, comforting and loving. Lightning flashed and a sudden rain shower pelted the roof and windows.  
“We could recreate our first case, Scully. Dancing in the rain.”  
“You might expect me to slip out of my clothes and show you my bites.” The warmth of the wine slipped down her throat and she felt her cheeks burn with her own flirtatious tone.  
“Or what about that one where the guy controlled the weather? We could pretend we’re at our high school reunion and dance together.”  
“Or we could get high on mushrooms and fantasise about how we perceive each other?”  
“Scully, did you just say fantasise?”  
“Shut up, Mulder!  
“Well, it might just have to be the Discovery Channel then, Scully.”  
She sighed theatrically as he reached for the remote control. “Don’t tell me it’s An Alien Stole my Baby night.” She got up and emptied the wine bottle into their glasses.  
“Yeah, it’s the one where the child is returned as a pop prodigy and goes on to have a stellar career.”  
“I think I’ve seen that one already,” she said. “And I’ve definitely got the album.” She flops down on the couch, deliciously loose-limbed. Her head rolls on the cushioned back and she watches patterns on the ceiling. Shadows and lightning flashes roiling into soft shapes and familiarity.  
Mulder turned to her and ran a finger across her jaw. She smelled his cologne as he breathed out, “Or we could make out.” He dipped his head as she turned towards him and the kiss was hesitant for a second before their bodies took over and muscle memory allowed them to meld into each other.  
The bedroom was welcoming and warm as the storm built outside and in. Thunder, heavy pressure, rain released. It was like all their colours flashed brighter that night and when she woke in his arms in the morning, she knew that the darkness might just tear at their edges but would never rip them apart again.


End file.
